


An Angel Gets Its Wings

by kakawot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Season/Series 05, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakawot/pseuds/kakawot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some unknown reason Castiel keeps on sprouting new angel wings at the most inconvenient of times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Angel Gets Its Wings

They sat in a diner, any other diner. It carried the same stench, the same waitress, the same sticky floor and the same patrons. It felt like being in a Pokémon world, where there was a nurse Joy in every city. Sure, the view outside the windows changed, but the interior of the building remained ever the same. It even seemed built on the same floor plan.

The food was identical as well. Greasy, deep-fried things on a bun. Dean gleefully ordered basically the same thing at every place they went to. And as usual Castiel ordered nothing while Sam remained the health nut.

The Apocalypse happened all around them, but odds were that even in Hell there existed a diner like this.

It had been a successful hunt. Something easy, no demons or destiny or damned feathery dicks. Witches had been active in the area. Emphasis on the past tense. A few hex bags found, a few hex bags burnt, and all was well. But unbeknown to the trio, there was one hex bag left. A fairly innocent one, if such terms could be used to describe those wicked things. But the little bag would have an unforeseen effect on the world, one never described in the Bible or other holy lore, neither foreseen by precogs or anything connected to the world of tomorrow. It'd change the course of history forever, all thanks to one man.

* * *

"I'll have the Hawaii burger with a side of bacon, please," Dean said and handed his menu back to the waitress. She scribbled it down and turned to Sam.

"Mediterranean salad and fish tacos for me."

"I desire nothing," Castiel added before the waitress could ask him. She smiled at the three men before turning to the kitchen.

"You sure, Cas?" Sam asked. "Humans need at least three meals a day and so far I've seen you eat... maybe two days ago."

"I don't require that much food," Castiel said in his monotone, although he almost sounded defensive. The reminder that he had to eat at all thanks to his status as fallen angel was still a sore point. Dean waltzed over the awkward situation with a well-placed comment.

"Hey, look! They've got surf and turf! You have _got_ to try that, Cas." The angel glowered at him and Dean's enthusiasm fell. "Right. Well, next time you're hungry, try it."

"I will," retorted Castiel. He leaned back, brushing Sam's arm by accident. Castiel didn't flinch, but there was definitely a sense of 'For some reason fate has decided I am to sit next to Lucifer's Vessel, God help me, what if he says _yes_ right now, I'll be killed in a second, not that Sam would really do such a thing, but still'. Sam ignored it. The conversation turned to the hunt and other topics, until the food arrived. The waitress carried the two food-laden plates and set them down in front of Dean and Sam. Both men looked up at her and smiled a thanks.

And that's when it happened.

Without warning something appeared, accompanied by a ripping sound and a surprised gasp. The thing hit Sam in his side and shoved him out of the booth, making him sprawl on the ground. Castiel got shoved as well, but he managed to keep his balance on the edge of the seat. The thing, no, things, blocked the sunlight streaming in from the window and Dean saw the shadow first before he saw the real thing. He'd seen it before, behind Castiel.

But this time his angel wings were manifested on this plane, instead of a surreal shadow behind the vessel. They appeared to be shimmering black, tapering into dark gray at the bottom. They were half-folded behind Castiel's back, but if stretched Dean knew they could sweep the bar clean in one stroke, they looked _huge_. But the wings weren't as fluffy and feathery as they appeared in the lore; these were soldier's wings. The flight feathers looked sharp as daggers and the edges were serrated. Castiel could knock someone over and saw them in half in one motion, Dean's hunter instinct told him.

Black feathers floated down from the explosion of angel wings, covering the table and booth as if a cat had killed a black dove on that spot and ripped it apart. Or maybe the cat had killed a crow, which was far more common than a black dove.

Castiel showed a rare emotion on his face: he looked baffled.

"Wha-" Sam's voice sounded from the floor of the diner. Dean shifted his eyes from the magnificent wings to his brother. Sam appeared unhurt, his shirt still intact and no trace of blood on him. Maybe the serrated edges were only dangerous if Castiel willed them to be.

Sam got up from his sprawl, stepped back from the winged angel and looked from Castiel to Dean and back.

The commotion hadn't gone by unnoticed by the other people in the diner. People turned to look and gawk. The waitress let a glass slip from her fingers and it clattered to the identical diner floor, but nobody reacted to the sound. Every pair of eyes was focused on Castiel, or rather, his black wings stretching out across the diner.

"We should leave," Castiel said, already getting up. He folded his wings to the best of his ability, but they still stuck out over his shoulder, with the lowest feathers barely clearing the sticky diner floor. Dean followed his example, his mind shoving his mouth into drive. What did he usually do when people were confronted by the supernatural?

"Ta-daa!" Dean exclaimed, making an exaggerated motion towards Castiel as if presenting a new car. Confused eyes turned towards him, Sam and Castiel included.

"Be sure to catch our new magic show, Thursday in the community center!" Dean continued. "We've got loads of tricks up our sleeves, not just guys with wings!"

Sam caught up on what Dean tried to do and he too presented Castiel. "Be prepared to be amazed, gaze in wonder at our show, make sure you spread the word!"

The people in the diner began to laugh and clap, some of them rolling their eyes and Dean saw an older couple muttering angrily to each other. Sam and Dean took a bow and pulled Castiel with them before hurrying out of the diner under the sound of applause. A small girl reached out to touch the wings, but Castiel sidestepped her and followed Sam and Dean to the Impala.

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean asked once they arrived at the car. He waved and smiled at the people inside the diner one last time before stepping into the car. "Don't answer yet, we've got to move," he continued, and heard no argument from either of the males.

Castiel and his angel wings were hard to stuff into the backseat, but with some creative maneuvering they managed it. Only when the wheels of the Impala crossed the town border did Dean dare relax a bit. He looked into the rear-view mirror and saw two blue eyes staring back.

"Okay Cas, what the hell?" he repeated. Castiel kept on staring.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Something forced my wings to manifest, although this is not their true form. I've been trying to unmanifest them, but I can't."

"Does this have anything to do with your falling thing?" Sam asked, twisting around in the front seat to look at Castiel. The angel looked unhappy, uncomfortable. He let his wings relax somewhat, and now the feathery appendages covered the entire backseat, left to right, top to bottom, Castiel smack dab in the middle. It looked like a giant crow had invaded the back of the Impala.

"No," Castiel said. The two brothers waited a beat for him to elaborate. It was a testament to the influence of humans on Castiel, because the angel got the hint and continued. "I haven't heard of anything like this. Only an angel can manifest his wings, nothing on this planet can force an angel to show its wings against its will."

"Well, apparently there is," Dean retorted. "Can you make them disappear yet?"

Castiel frowned and a look of concentration appeared on his face. But the black wings stayed. "Pull over," Castiel ordered. Dean chose a dirt road leading into the wilderness to pull over and with some more maneuvering Castiel got out of the backseat. The dirt road seemed deserted enough to let a guy with wings step out without people gawking left and right.

"Cover your eyes," Castiel said. Sam and Dean looked at each other for a second before closing their eyes and covering them with their arms for good measure. They hadn't forgotten how bright Anna's Grace had been.

Light still filtered past their arms and eyelids, which died after a few seconds. When the Winchesters deemed it safe to open their eyes, they saw Castiel standing there, a bit forlorn. His wings had grown slightly larger instead of disappearing back into the ethereal plane. The black was now interspersed with white feathers here and there. The feathers looked ruffled and sticking out in places, as if somebody had mashed two sets of wings together. Dean could spot no pattern to the patches of white.

"What did you try to do?" Sam asked, stepping closer to the angel. Castiel turned his piercing gaze to Sam. His wings folded back and settled on his back.

"I tried to force them back, but something... flipped. Now I fear I've combined the four wings."

Dean also stepped closer, cocking his head sideways and squinting. "Wait. The black wings are _new_ wings? Which just sprouted out of nowhere. This ever happened to you before?"

"No," Castiel said. "But I think I have solved the problem for now."

The same look of concentration flitted across his face. The wings behind Castiel flickered in and out of existence, like the reception bars on a cellphone in a rural area, before finally settling on staying hidden. Castiel heaved a sigh and rolled his shoulders. "Can you see them?" he asked, just to make sure. Dean and Sam both shook their heads.

"I say we call Bobby, maybe he knows what is up with angel wings showing up at diners," Sam suggested.

"I doubt Bobby has an answer to this, dude," Dean said, but made a shooing motion with his hand. "But go right ahead."

Sam got his cellphone out and dialed.

* * *

As it turned out, Bobby didn't find anything in his many, many books about angels getting new wings. Castiel acted a bit jittery, as far as the Winchester brothers could tell from the stoic angel. His glance kept on sliding to his shoulders, as if he expected new wings to manifest any moment.

They decided to travel on to the next town, hole up in a motel and do some research. Or rather, Sam typed away on his laptop while Dean fetched them some dinner. Castiel denied the offer for a hamburger again. He sat on the bed and kept his shoulders hitched so high Sam swore they touched his ears.

"Are you alright, Cas?" Sam asked, employing a gentle tone. Castiel's eyes slid over to him.

"Fine," he said in his gravelly voice. His shoulders lowered a bit when Dean entered the motel room at that moment, carrying paper bags with the scent of greasy food wafting from them.

"Dinner time!" he announced and dumped the bags on the table. Sam snatched his laptop away just in time to avoid it getting splattered by the questionable contents of the bag.

"Hey Cas, you're still here," Dean remarked with some surprise.

"Yes."

"This thing's got you spooked, huh," Sam said, and got a glower in response. Then again, something which could scare an angel who rebelled against Heaven was probably something the two Hunters should be wary of as well.

"My wings are... one of the few powers I have left," Castiel implied. Getting cut off from Heaven was hard on Castiel, they all knew it. And if something messed with one of the few things Castiel had left of his status as angel of the Lord, he would stick around until they had found out what made him sprout extra wings.

Castiel shifted on the bed and hitched his shoulders up again. It didn't go by unnoticed, but the scent of the food was too tantalizing for Sam and Dean. They dug into the burgers and continued their research. Silence descended as they worked, searched, pointed out findings and jotted down notes. But as the evening stretched into the night, they conceded that they hadn't found anything worthwhile. Some promising leads had been shot down by Castiel, and the angel himself rifled through books but didn't find anything either.

Sam yawned and Dean involuntarily followed, although he tried to disguise it behind a fist.

"Hey, I'm hitting the sack," Sam announced and closed the lid on his laptop. Dean threw the book he flipped through on the table and stretched. His vertebrae popped with audible cracks.

"Yeah, me too."

Castiel made room for the Winchesters and now it was his turn to sit at the table and do the research, his shoulders still hitched high. Castiel kept a small lamp shining on the book. His night vision was good, but the 'meat-suit' limited his vision somewhat. He needed a small light to make out the ancient characters in Gothic script on old, worn pages, a task which daunted many Literature students.

Slowly the breathing of Sam and Dean evened out until they fell by all intents and purposes asleep. Castiel waited another half an hour to be sure before he put the book down. He rolled his shoulders and the room filled with fluttering.

* * *

Dean smacked his lips once, not sure what had awoken him. His head felt heavy and he turned on his side, dragging the blanket with him. His body made the need to pee known and Dean sighed. In one smooth motion he threw the blanket off himself and got up, eyes still closed as he stumbled forward, past the beds. He opened his eyes half-way to see where the bathroom door was located again in this motel room, but he stopped short when he saw what the small lamp illuminated.

Castiel had moved the chair from the table to the middle of the room. For some reason he had called his wings into existence again and the giant wings stretched all the way across the room. His torso was twisted sideways as his fingers methodically combed through the feathers, or at least, that looked like what he had been doing. He'd stopped the moment Dean got up and now looked at him with large eyes.

"Dude, are- are you preening?" Dean asked. His gaze slid to the small pile of black and white feathers on the floor. "You're preening your wings. In our motel room."

Castiel didn't meet his eyes, but focused on a point just beyond Dean's ears. "The new feathers itched and would impede my flying," Castiel explained matter-of-factly.

"Right," Dean said slowly. He gestured towards the wing stretched out over the beds, blocking Dean's path. "D'you mind?"

Castiel folded his wing back to grant Dean passage and Dean couldn't help but look at how smooth that movement looked. So practiced, just like moving an arm or leg. These things were part of Castiel. Sometimes it was easy to forget exactly what kind of creature Castiel was, despite the personal space issues and literal mindedness. But these black and white appendages made sure he would not be able to let that slip from his mind again.

Somehow the sight of the angel's extended wings in this crappy motel room felt... wrong. Unholy.

Dean stepped inside the bathroom, his mind still focused on the angel sitting on a too small chair in the middle of the room, preening. They were going to find out what caused this, he'd make damn sure.

* * *

"Do your... the feathers have any special angel powers?" Sam asked the following morning. He'd slept through the night, but woke up to a pile of angel feathers. It didn't take him long to connect the dots. Castiel still refused to meet Dean's eyes, but he did look at Sam.

"Not really. Once cut from my Grace, they're just feathers."

"Too bad," Dean said with a smile. "I wouldn't mind your zapping thing."

Castiel inhaled sharply and twisted just in time for the new wings bursting forth from his shoulders to miss Sam.

This time the wings were dark purple, but just as large and deadly-looking as the black ones. Castiel's right wing broke through the window and shattered the glass and frame. Quick as an… angel he withdrew the wings and folded them back.

"You okay?" Dean asked, stepping closer to Castiel's right side. The angel shifted around with him, not giving him a good look.

"Fine. We need to move."

"Agreed," Sam said and made a grab for his duffel bag, throwing Dean his. Dean caught it just in time and slung it over his shoulder.

"Cas, you're bleeding," Dean noted, his eyes trailing the smear of blood on Castiel's tan trench coat.

"I'm fine, it's just a cut," Castiel said. He barged out the door, leaving drips of blood behind. Sam and Dean looked at each other before following him.

"He'd better not ruin the upholstery," Dean groused.

They'd gotten better at maneuvering Castiel inside the car with his wings, and within minutes they hit the road.

"Right, scratch that motel off the list," Sam said as he typed the name in the ever-expanding database of motels that were off-limits. "Hey, need a first-aid kit or something?" he asked, turning back to Castiel. The dark purple wings were still there, and Castiel still looked none too happy about that.

"I... suppose," he finally admitted.

"You'd better, I'm _not_ scrubbing angel blood off my baby," Dean warned. "Ever harder to get out than demon blood," he continued.

Sam shook his head at that bizarre observation and rummaged around under his seat, fishing the first-aid kit out they'd sadly had to use many, many times.

"You know how this works, right?" Sam asked as he handed the kit to Castiel.

"Yes," Castiel said. He grabbed the kit and pulled the far edge of his right wing into his lap. It looked like an angry gash, with pink flesh in stark contrast against the dark purple. That needed stitches, Sam surmised. But Castiel didn't make any move for the needle or thread.

"Do you mind?" he asked sharply, leveling his blue-eyed gaze on Sam.

"Uh, right," Sam said and faced forward again. Right, an angel sat tending to his wings in the backseat. To be frank, it wasn't the weirdest thing to ever happen on that backseat, but it sure ranked in the top ten.

"Any idea what happened there, Cas?" Dean asked, looking in the rear-view mirror. Castiel glared at him until Dean averted his eyes. Probably angel etiquette, not looking at angels tending to wings.

"No. I had a second's warning before something forced these out."

"And these are new wings as well? How many you got now, six?"

"Four. I merged the other ones, and I intend to do that to these as well."

"Did you notice anything? Smells, sounds, anything-"

"I know the signs of demonic possession, Dean," Castiel said with a twinge of annoyance in his voice. "And there was nothing. These just appeared."

"Well, it can't be good," Sam said. "Something like this usually isn't."

"Tell me about it," Dean said.

* * *

Unanimously they decided to head to Bobby's. But their safe haven was at least three day's travel if they drove twelve hours a day, so they had to hit up a motel at some point.

"You. Don't grow anything," Dean said as he pointed at Castiel before disappearing inside the bathroom.

"I'll try," Castiel said in all seriousness. He'd managed to merge the purple ones with his existing ones after an hour. The gash had healed up by then. But after making sure the Winchester brothers weren't staring at him all time, he'd preened his wings again, because the itching drove him crazy. And in case he suddenly had to fly somewhere, he wanted to be in the best shape possible, or so he told the boys. But mostly it was the itching.

Castiel watched the brothers get ready for bed from his position on the chair. He'd spend the night reading through more lore, attempting to find the reason for his situation. And ideally a solution.

Sam was out like a light, but Dean tossed and turned for thirty minutes until he heaved a deep sigh and sat up.

"Not a word," he warned Castiel as he turned the TV on, setting it at its lowest volume. Castiel wisely kept his mouth shut and continued reading. Dean kept on changing channels, never settling on anything. It made Castiel uneasy, the flickering lights, the sounds that kept on changing.

Sam wasn't unaffected either. He murmured and turned on his side, gripping the pillow tighter. Castiel silently got up and headed for the door.

"Where're you going?" Dean asked in a low voice, glancing at Sam to make sure his brother hadn't woken up.

"Out," Castiel replied. He didn't want to articulate his thoughts on the constant channel surfing, but Dean seemed to accept the reason. Maybe he knew how annoying the TV could be for someone not watching it.

"Watch out for new wings," Dean said. Castiel took that as his way of saying 'fine'. Not that he needed a human's permission to go anywhere.

Just as Castiel closed the door behind him, he heard Dean softly say, "Hey, South Park." He hurried away from the motel room. There was enough blasphemy on that show to frighten even a soldier angel, yet for some reason Dean loved it. Maybe because Satan was depicted as a wimp, Castiel could see the appeal in that to Dean.

Castiel walked across the damp concrete, heading nowhere. He still had no explanation for the new wings and that irked him. He'd settle for an unreasonable explanation by now, but even that was hard to come by. They just kept appearing without rhyme or reason and frankly, he was getting tired of preening. Sure, he loved to comb his fingers through the wings, but he was used to doing it in privacy, not in the bumpy backseat of an old car with two humans trying not to watch. At least he'd made it clear that staring at an angel's wings was rude, but he knew the brothers were curious. That's what made them good hunters, but lousy preening companions.

He had no particular destination in mind as he walked. There was a slightly empty feeling inside, which meant that he had to order something at breakfast. But he could live without food, for now. The town appeared to be shut down anyway. The heavy rain which had loosed its torrent over the town still loomed in the distance, but for now there hung only dampness in the air. The streets were deserted, which suited Castiel just fine.

The next second he gasped as the feeling reared its wings again. Something pushed against him from the inside, a heavy tingle in his shoulder blades as new wings jutted out at an awkward angle before he could fold them back in. Well, this was getting annoying. Even more preening.

The wings were a soft purple, a shade lighter than the previous new wings. Castiel flapped them once. They were real angel wings, with all the attributes and power of his own wings, should he choose to manifest them. But again it was chosen for him.

No longer an inconspicuous guy wandering the streets he turned back to the motel. And nearly tripped when a new set of wings jerked free from his shoulders as well, meshing with the light purple ones. These headed into blue territory, although it was hard to see with feathers sticking out everywhere.

They already itched, the wayward feathers scratching against bone. But he couldn't right them in the middle of the street.

Castiel wasn't used to running, he pretty much flew everywhere. But this time he booked it down the road, splashing through puddles, heading in as straight as possible line back to the motel. At this time of night there were hardly any humans around, but that didn't mean there were none. Nurses working night shifts, bakers heating up the ovens, this society made people work round the clock. And every pair of eyes meant another trail demons could follow, because reports of a guy with wings could pretty much mean just one thing.

The angel had the neon sign of the motel in sight when the third pair of wings made itself known. He stumbled, but managed to keep his footing. He wanted to be back in the relative safety of the motel room already, instead of sprouting new wings in the middle of the street. The next second, he was. He slid to a stop in time to avoid crashing into Sam's bed, but Dean shot up from his seat on the other bed, hands already reaching for the nearest knife. He stopped when he saw who had run into the room.

"Cas... Dude, you zapped!"

Castiel stepped away from the bed and didn't really know what to do with himself. He wanted to merge the wings, but he'd prefer privacy to do that.

"Yes. I don't know how that happened," Castiel admitted. "These wings are giving me… fresh Grace, I think you'd call it," he continued. He lifted one shoulder and the multicolored wing lifted with it. The three wings had already merged into one pair, which had a gradient from purple to dark blue. When he merged it with his existing wings, he'd have quite the impressive pair.

"That's good, right?" Dean asked, shutting off the TV and getting up. He walked closer to Castiel and the angel took a step back, bumping his wings against the table.

"This time it worked, yes. But I... we still don't know what's causing it."

"We're going to find out, Cas, don't worry," Dean said with an intense look on his face. He laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder, but as the angel knew, humans were a tactile species, and very curious. Dean's hand slid down his shoulder, aiming for the feathery appendages, but Castiel squared his shoulders and stepped out of the touch. He hurried out the door and left a slightly bewildered Dean behind. Luckily the man didn't follow.

An hour later Castiel was done merging and preening his growing wings, and he no longer felt irked by Dean's behavior. If Dean had been an angel, touching his wings without express permission was rude. But the man was no angel, had zero concept of angel customs and as such Castiel shouldn't be annoyed with him.

Castiel returned to the motel room, wings hidden neatly away. He left a pile of purple, blue, white and black feathers behind on the roof of the motel, which would be scattered by the wind and delight a few small children when they found them in the street.

Because he knew, before this was all over, Dean _would_ find a way to touch his wings.

* * *

The map crinkled as Sam folded it up all wrong, his strong hands forcing creases where there should be none. Later on he'd be annoyed with himself for ruining the map, but right now he had more urgent matters to worry about.

"Dean, get to that gas station," he ordered. His brother didn't bother listening, cranking up the tunes a little bit. Sam gestured towards the forlorn looking station in the distance.

"We can get some coffee or something, come on."

Dean still didn't change lanes to get to the station, so Sam resorted to different means.

"I have to go to the bathroom, dude, or do you want me to pee in the car?"

"I'll kill you if you do that," Dean immediately retorted, but at the last second he turned into the lane, leaning heavily on the brake for the sharp turn coming up. "You shouldn't have drank that much tea, Sammy," he teased.

Sam didn't dignify that with an answer, but he bolted from the car the second it rolled to a standstill. No doubt Dean would opt for a coffee while Sam was busy in the bathroom, maybe top the Impala off while they were here.

They were now a day's drive removed from Bobby, and so far Castiel had grown four new sets of wings. The worrying thing was that they kept changing colors. They were now a shimmering indigo. Thankfully Castiel hadn't grow anything while sitting in the car. The dents his wings could create would be spectacular, if they didn't outright puncture the metal.

But if this weird… curse kept up, it'd happen sooner or later. They'd searched everywhere for hex bags, but there were none to be found. No markings, Enochian or otherwise, no drops of blood or strange herbs, nothing which indicated why Castiel threw colored feathers left and right could be found inside or out the car or on their bodies. They checked every motel room, but it looked like the curse traveled with them.

It drove Castiel slowly nuts, and Dean and Sam along with him. Castiel was particular about his wings, and Sam had likened Castiel having his wings out to walking around naked. It was as close an analogy as he could get, and all of a sudden Dean got a lot less grabby with the wings.

When Sam got back to the car, Dean walked up as well, hands folded around a cup of coffee. Castiel was nowhere to be found.

They leaned on the hood for a while and said nothing, Dean slowly sipping his coffee. They were quite comfortable inside their own heads, thinking about everything and nothing, and this time there wasn't much that needed to be said. The brothers operated on automatic when Dean was done with his coffee. They got in the car, almost simultaneously slammed the doors shut and Dean shifted into gear.

AC/DC was the choice for this stretch of road, and Dean quickly and efficiently merged onto the highway. Sam stared out the window and let his eyes slowly drift shut, lulled by the familiar surroundings and company.

Dean smiled as his favorite part of the AC/DC song came on and he tapped the steering wheel along with the beat. Five songs later he turned the tape over. If all went well they'd be at Bobby's tonight around dinnertime. Maybe then they could finally fix whatever ailed …

"Castiel!" Dean yelled without preamble. Sam jerked awake and shot up, looking around to the backseat. But no angel sat there. Dean cursed and headed for the next exit to turn the car around and fetch Castiel.

"I can't believe we forgot about him!" Sam said with incredulity coloring his voice. "I hope he's okay..."

* * *

Castiel looked around the parking lot, scanning for the telltale black car. But it was gone from where the Winchesters had parked it, and it was nowhere else near the gas station. Castiel wondered if the brothers got fed up with his wingsplosions and decided to leave him. It didn't sound like the Dean and Sam's modus operandi, but humans could be surprising sometimes.

He put his hands in his pockets and encountered the cellphone he'd purchased a while ago. At least humans had the decency to invent something to easily communicate over great distances. He thumbed through his contact list, consisting of three people: Dean, Sam and Bobby. The angel selected Dean and hit the green button.

There was no dialing tone, nor did Dean pick up. The voice told him he was out of minutes and he could upgrade to a new plan if he called a certain number, or he could buy minutes from the nearest convenience store. Well, the gas station had food, maybe it also sold minutes, he reasoned.

It did, actually. He had to provide a lot of information he didn't know, such as the provider, how much minutes he wanted, how he was going to pay, so Castiel handed the cellphone over to the human.

"I don't know about such things," he said, "but-"

It's as if his wings had waited for the most inopportune moment to strike. He felt the sensation ripple across his shoulders and if he hadn't been an angel of the Lord, he'd have cursed. He twisted away from the human, trying not to let him come to harm as cobalt wings erupted. They pushed over a rack of candy and the right wing buried itself into magazines, but at least this time he didn't break the glass. As quickly as possible he folded them to his back, but the damage had been done.

The gas station attendant stared at Castiel, phone forgotten in his hand.

"You're, you're..." he stuttered.

Perhaps it was best if he didn't out himself as an angel of the Lord, Castiel thought. How had Dean solved it again?

He gave a slight bow. "Tadaa," he deadpanned, looking the clerk straight in the eyes. "Come see our magic show, Thursday in the community center. We have more tricks, be prepared to be amazed."

Silence descended after that statement. The clerk put the phone down. "We don't _have_ a community center," he slowly said. "And today's Thursday. And it's just you, no 'we'."

Castiel straightened and took the phone back. "Do you have minutes?" he asked again. Dean had shown him that it was better to distract a human than tell outright lies. Not that the angel was good at lying, nor comfortable with it.

"Are- are you an angel?" the clerk countered.

"Do you have _minutes_ ," Castiel repeated. His wings gave a small twitch as the itch of wrong feathers became unbearable and the clerk's eyes shifted to the holy appendages. His wail of terror was so sudden Castiel had his blade in his hand before he could stop himself. The clerk threw himself to the floor, bowing to the angel.

"Please, have mercy! I know it was wrong to look up girls' skirts, but I couldn't help myself! Please don't take me to Hell!"

This was spinning out of control. Usually he was in and out before anything like this could happen, but with his diminished Grace he couldn't fly away. Wait, flight. The humans had certain ideas about angels, and teleportation wasn't part of the lore. The lore, Castiel could use.

"Boy, get up," he ordered. He had to try it two more times before his voice penetrated through the haze of self-inflicted terror, but when it did, the clerk jumped up as if he had springs in his boots.

"Tell me, do I _look_ like an angel?" he asked, spreading his blue wings as wide as the shop would allow.

The clerk swallowed. "Well, yeah," he said slowly, eyes flitting over the richly detailed feathers, the smooth motion and slight trembling of the wings, the rustle of flight feathers as they pointed outwards.

Castiel had to admit, he walked right into that one. "I mean, would an angel have blue wings?"

"I... don't know, maybe?" the clerk said, but his statement was more of a question. Good.

"Oh my-" said a female voice behind Castiel. He looked over his shoulder and met the eyes of an elderly woman. She made a cross at him and held her hands to her chest. "An angel!"

Quickly she touched her forehead, her breastbone, her shoulders and then sank to her knees, hands held in prayer. "Our Father, who art in Heaven..."

Castiel turned around fully and her praying intensified.

"Ma'am, get up," he said. She didn't listen to him and she blurted out the words even quicker, repeating the prayer a couple of times. The clerk gasped as he saw Castiel's trench coat-clad back.

"It's, they're, those are _real_!" he yelled and disappeared behind the counter again, joining the woman in prayer.

Castiel stood uneasily between the two praying humans, unsure what to do now. If he had his Grace, he'd thank them for their faith and disappear from their lives, but as it was, he needed the Impala to come pick him up, then he needed to stop the Apocalypse. But small things first, one step at a time. For now it was important to keep a low profile, otherwise they'd have demons on their tails in no-time.

"It's for a show," he tried to no avail. The humans kept on praying. Castiel tucked his wings back in and shuffled past the kneeling woman, whose eyes were squeezed shut. With only the tinkle of the bell to announce his departure he got out of the shop.

"Dad! It's an angel!" a girl's voice cried out. A beat. "But why does he have blue wings?"

At pump number three a large man filled up his equally large car, with his daughter hanging out the front window. She looked too young to ride in the front seat, but her high voice carried across the gas station quite well. The father of the girl half-heartedly glanced in Castiel's direction, but paused and gave the angel his full attention when he saw the cobalt wingtips hiding behind Castiel's shoulders.

"It _is_ an angel!" he said in a booming voice. He looked torn between sinking to his knees, praying and protecting his daughter from the unknown threat. If it even was a threat, because it was an angel (albeit one with blue wings).

Or maybe just some costumed freak.

Castiel stopped peeking inside the man's thoughts and focused on defusing the situation. "Come see our show!" he tried, stepping away from the gas station. The man processed that for a few seconds before he smirked and shook his head. He continued pumping processed dead plankton into his vehicle.

"Dad!" the girl called. She herself looked a bit like what mothers called 'angel children', long blond hair and bright blue eyes, a red bow tangled in her curls. "Why does he have blue wings?"

"It's just for some show, honey," the large man said. "Angels aren't real."

Castiel walked out to the parking lot and kept a lookout for the Impala. Hopefully Dean and Sam would come by to pick him up. Otherwise he'd have to walk or hitch a ride with another human all the way to Bobby Singer, but he doubted that many humans would give him a ride while he sported these wings.

The praying woman and clerk exited the store and looked around, their hands still in praying position. The woman soon found Castiel and she pointed at him. "There he is! The angels have come down!"

"No lady, he's just from some show," the man said with the patient tone of a father.

"He's saying that to cover up," the clerk said. "Those wings man, they're real. No way those are fake. He's one of God's angels."

"I knew it!" the man bellowed. He quickly placed the pump back in its holder and joined the clerk and woman. "What should we do?" he asked.

"We should-" began the woman, but the clerk interrupted her.

"We have to hear its gospel! His Holy Words!"

The three of them ran towards Castiel and crowded around him before he could get away. The girl in the car just looked confused, and so did Castiel.

"I have nothing to say," he said to all three. "Come see our show."

"Tell us, show us, please, angel!" the woman cried, not making much sense to the angel. He had nothing to show and nothing to tell.

"Leave me," he said. The woman hesitated as if she wanted to listen to his command, but at the same time she just wanted to be close to him. The man and the clerk took a step back.

"I can't," the woman said. Castiel took two steps backwards, out of her reach, but she shuffled forwards. Another step. Another shuffle.

Without warning Castiel turned around and made a break for it, heading towards the cornfield just behind the gas station. The woman yelled for him to come back and he heard her run after him, but by then he smashed through the first corn stalks and disappeared inside the field.

Castiel worked his way back in a half-circle, making sure that she wasn't following him, her or the clerk or man. There were too many angel-crazy humans out there, he decided. Too bad he had to run into them while he was 'out of mojo'. At the edge of the cornfield he stayed just out of sight and waited. If the Impala didn't turn up at nightfall, he'd find a way to get to Bobby Singer. Until then he'd sit on the ground and wait. Maybe groom his wings, because they were itchy already. As long as no humans swarmed around him, telling him he was an angel, he'd live.

Rescue came fifteen minutes later. The welcome black car rolled to a stop not far from Castiel's hiding spot. Dean and Sam shot out of the car and called for him, looking left and right. Castiel got up, made his merged wings invisible and stepped out of his hiding place.

"There he is!" he heard the woman scream immediately. Apparently she'd been waiting all this time, keeping an eye on the cornfield. The man and clerk had disappeared, but the woman ran towards him.

"Dean!" Castiel yelled as he also began to run, although he angled towards the car. Dean turned around and the look on his and Sam's face was relief, or so Castiel's limited experience on Earth whispered to him. "Start the car!" Dean didn't object or question why, he got in and the Impala rumbled to life. Sam held the door open for the angel and within seconds he dove inside. The woman was not far behind, so Sam got in and slammed the door, sacrificing a few feathers.

"Go," Sam simply said and Dean floored it. The woman frantically waved her arms, but Dean didn't slow down.

"Dude, what was that about?" Dean asked once they'd made it safely back to the interstate.

Castiel shifted uneasily on the backseat and looked out the window. "I sprung wings inside the shop," he said. "I have also lost the phone."

Sam groaned. Castiel ignored it.

"How many new wings are that now?" Dean asked. "Four, five?"

"Six," Castiel replied.

"We have _got_ to find out what's causing it," Dean affirmed again and pressed a little harder on the pedal. For once, Castiel felt glad for that.

* * *

The familiar sight of Bobby's place was a welcome relief from all the shabby motel rooms they usually occupied. Not that Bobby's house wasn't a bit shabby as well, but they could call it a semblance of home. As close as they could get in their weird life, anyway.

As Dean pulled up he felt his lips curve in an involuntary smile at the way Bobby's door was already propped open in expectation of the Winchester brothers. A second later there came a fluttering from the backseat and Castiel disappeared, to reappear outside the car. His new wings were teal, matching the faded paint of the pickup truck behind him. Only the color on the wings was vibrant and the feathers rustling.

"He zapped again," Sam noted. "Maybe he really is getting his Grace back somehow."

"I guess that'd be good news, _if we knew how_ ," Dean ground out. He and Sam got out of the car just as Bobby stepped outside.

"So that's the problem, huh," he remarked casually. Then again, an angel with wings wasn't that crazy when you thought about it.

"Yes," Castiel said. Without preamble he merged his wings and this time Bobby did look a little taken aback at the multitude of colored feathers on the wings. It started on top with black mixed with white feathers, which melded into purple. Then it went down the rainbow until the bottom of the wings showcased the new teal color. The wings appeared to be larger, because this time the bottom feathers only missed the floor by an inch, instead of hanging around Castiel's knees.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes," Castiel announced, showing that he had at least picked some manners up somewhere. With a fluttering he disappeared into thin air.

"I thought he couldn't do that anymore," Bobby said, pointing at the empty spot.

Dean shrugged. "The wings are giving him fresh mojo. Somehow."

"Really," Bobby said in a flat tone. "Interesting."

"Very," Dean agreed in an even flatter tone. "Now, which monster do I have to gank around here to get a cup of coffee?"

"Knock yourself out," Bobby said, turning back inside. Sam trudged inside after him, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Dean heaved his from the car with a heavy sigh. Research, joy of joys.

* * *

Dean threw the book down on the pile and stretched. "Alright, that's two hours of research and nada."

"You mean, Bobby and I have been researching," Sam corrected immediately, raising his eyes from the thick tome he'd been rifling through. "You've been reading that … Asian magazine."

"Sammy, I'm hurt. I'd never do something-"

"Nobody grins like a lunatic at Ye Olde Angel Booke," Sam interrupted. Dean gave him a look, shrugged, and went in search of a drink, preferably a stiff one.

"Nobody but nerds can focus on research for that long," Dean retorted. "A man needs some pick-me-up sometime," and he grinned at Sam's groan at the bad pun.

"Hey, where is the nerdy angel anyway? It's been two hours," Dean said.

At that moment a loud bang rattled the walls of the house. All three hunters inside had a gun in their hands within seconds, all pointing at the door.

Sam, who sat closest to the door, gently unlocked it and nudged it open with his foot, gun pointing at whatever was out there. He holstered it when he saw who lay sprawled on the ground, neon green wings and all.

"You okay, Cas?" Sam asked, extending his hand to pull Castiel up. Castiel took it with a grim face and was nearly hoisted into the air when Sam used a bit too much strength.

"I'm fine," Castiel said in a perfect imitation of that Winchester lie.

"What happened?" Bobby asked as he stepped outside behind Sam's back. Dean headed out on the porch as well.

"I was on my way back here," Castiel explained. "I was about to enter the room when _these_ came out and I couldn't get through the door anymore."

"Sounds painful," Dean remarked. Castiel regarded him.

"Yes, it hurts. But if I merge them, they won't," he said, and did so in front of them. He still carried the rainbow motif, although now the bottom feathers were that same neon green. The teal faded into green, signifying more wingsplosions the Winchesters hadn't been present for. No wonder Castiel had stayed out, if he had to preen his wings every time new ones popped out, he'd been busy.

The only question was, _why_ did Castiel grow new wings at indeterminable intervals?

"Come one in before you grow even more," Bobby said, already turning back to the house.

"Sorry Cas, we haven't found anything yet," Sam said to Castiel. The angel gave him a blank look.

"Of course you haven't," he simply said without any further explanation, following Bobby into the house. Dean and Sam shared a long-suffering look and fell into step behind the angel.

The good thing about all this was that Cas could zap around again, so that had to count for something, right?

* * *

"We should start selling these things," Dean remarked. They had spent all day researching, but they were running out of books and sites to check out. Humanity had only written so much about angels, or at least, books about angels which looked vaguely promising. Because in a book about chakra healing the Winchesters had little doubt they'd find anything about angel wings and what made them pop up out of nowhere.

The 'things' Dean referred to were the multicolored feathers covering the floor. All throughout the day Castiel had sprouted new wings, and with each fresh wing he looked more and more miserable. The poor guy preened all day long. Sam suggested that he stop for a few minutes, but the angel claimed that the erratic feathers made him fly far less efficient. And Dean saw the angel scratch the bone, so there was probably more to the preening than just angel efficiency.

But the three new sets of wings went unpreened. Castiel had merged them, made them disappear as soon as he could and then collapsed back in the chair he'd planted a little angel flag on. Alright, he had hung his trench coat on it, but it was a bit like a dog marking its territory. Now the angel gave little twitches now and then while he focused on the book Bobby had put in his hands. Another research book, but even with Castiel's help they couldn't find anything.

Castiel went out and got some more books from local and not-so-local libraries. Too bad Dean couldn't read the Korean language, because the book cover looked nice.

"I doubt those feathers are worth much. I'm sure some bird making a nest will be very happy with them though," Sam 'helpfully' answered. Bobby wisely refrained from getting into that discussion.

"Maybe if we market them as real angel feathers," Dean said, turning the yellow feather in his hands over and over, peering at it as if it could provide the answer to this feathery mystery. Then again, who knew. Over the years they had gotten clues from far smaller items. A baby tooth was sometimes all it needed.

"I don't think people will believe that," Sam said. He stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles above his head and gave the ceiling a long, hard look, yawning at the same time.

"Hey, if people believe that that singing girl-boy is any good, it should be easy for us to convince them these are the real deal," Dean said with a shrug.

"You will not sell my feathers," came the bored sounding veto from angel territory. "In fact, I should burn them. Put them down."

Bobby finally spoke up. "Not on that floor, you don't. Take it outside."

Castiel didn't even look up. He just disappeared, taking the pile of green-yellow feathers with him. Only the single yellow feather in Dean's hands remained. A small flare outside alerted them to the demise of its brothers and sisters and the next second Castiel was back in the chair, book laid on his lap.

"Is it just me," Bobby said, "or did he get faster?"

Dean and Sam both nodded.

"And you can burn things again, as well as zap around," Sam summed up. "Any more powers returning?"

Castiel slowly looked up from his book. "I... hadn't thought about it," he admitted. Dean threw the feather over his left shoulder (maybe it brought luck) and stepped closer, cocking his head to one side.

"Are you telling me that you're getting your powers _back_ somehow, and you hadn't thought about it?"

"My 'powers' come to me naturally, Dean. You don't notice when you lose and then regain the ability to sleep."

"Uh," Sam began, but tapered off when Castiel held up a hand.

"Wrong example. Though I wonder if I can-"

Without preamble or warning he got up, touched Dean's forehead with two fingers and disappeared. Before Bobby or Sam could do anything they were back with Dean caught in an 'oh shit' face. Those two fingers usually weren't a good sign for the Winchesters. When Dean got control over his arms back he slapped the fingers away.

"What the hell?" he barked, taking three steps backwards. "We talked about this, no more zapping me everywhere whenever you feel like it, Cas."

"I apologize," Castiel simply said. "We just jumped one second into the future. It looks like I can travel through time again."

"Oh, yeah, great, that always works out well," Dean remarked with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Sam was more intrigued by this turn of events.

"So you can do everything again? All the angel tricks and the zapping and the smiting and all?"

"Yes," Castiel answered. "Maybe, over time my 'mojo' will grow weaker again, but for the moment I'm as strong as I ever was."

Dean couldn't help himself, he grinned. It was nice to see Castiel's spirits lifted, even if his face remained impassive as ever. Except that time when he took him to a den of inequity, he sure showed some emotion then. As a matter of fact, they should-

This time the new wings were more orange in nature, the kind of orange you could find in sunsets and partially rusted copper. The kind of orange that just screams 'paint me', but no human hand could ever truly capture that hue. On angel wings it looked even more elusive.

And Castiel had just socked Sam in the jaw with his wing. Again.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said, extending his hand to help Sam up.

"Zero warning, huh," Sam retorted, taking Castiel's hand and picking himself off the floor. He rubbed his jaw and flinched when his fingers encountered a sore spot. That'd grow into a bruise, one of those bruises which looked manly on Dean, but which made Sam look like he got in a fight with a midget, and lost.

"Very little warning indeed," Castiel explained. Promptly he merged the sunsetty wings, showing off the almost complete rainbow. But the feathers were a mess, especially near the bottom. The last few new wings had gone unpreened and by now it showed. Feathers stuck out every which way, making it look like Castiel had gotten blown about by a tornado. Or maybe a giant supernatural cat had gotten to him and tried to make him its meal, and he narrowly escaped with his life and wings intact.

"I can't imagine that feels right," Dean said, pointing at a yellow feather which somehow sat twisted upside down.

"It doesn't," the angel said with complete honesty. "But I'd prefer to find out what is causing it. It's a... minor discomfort."

He furrowed his brow, and Dean saw that before. It meant the angel focused on making his wings disappear, but for once Dean wouldn't have any of that this time. Without a second thought he reached out and grabbed hold of some feathers.

"Hold on," he said, "let me fix that."

In a reaction born out of self-preservation Castiel jerked his wing free from Dean's grip. Sadly the feathers in Dean's grip came with it and the angel made a noise in his throat at the unpleasant feeling.

"I'd rather you didn't," Castiel said. "For one, you have no idea how to 'fix this'."

"A guy can learn," Dean retorted, throwing Castiel an apologetic look as he noticed the feathers he still clutched.

"No," Castiel simply said, furrowing his brow one more time. Within seconds the wings flickered and then disappeared. Dean threw his hands up in the air, the feathers along with it. They slowly floated down and coated the ground in a multitude of green, blue, yellow and purple.

"Fine, see if I offer any help next time."

"I'd rather you didn't," Castiel repeated. He hitched his shoulders up high and returned to the chair, picking up the Korean book.

"So, uh..." Sam began, having witnessed the whole conversation but wisely choosing to stay out of it. "Any more ideas where we can find fresh books, Dean?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean said with a sigh, joining Sam behind the laptop.

* * *

Thus the evening bled into night, until even Sam couldn't stomach the books and poorly-written sites anymore. They had found nothing. No leads, no theories, not even the weirdest of urban legends could point them in the right direction. Dean finally pretended to read while browsing a humor site on his phone. Castiel grew two more wings during the evening and merged them without any comment.

The Winchesters and Bobby finally decided to call it a night and all three retired to their bedrooms, leaving the angel alone.

Or so Castiel thought. Dean could be sneaky when he wanted to, his job pretty much required it. It was getting brighter outside, but the chill of night still hung in the air. Castiel had decided to finish a fresh Indian scroll outside, sitting on the hood of an old truck. It felt nice to be out of the house, just the angel and the apparent curse which had been put on him.

Castiel didn't really jump when Dean placed a cup of coffee on the hood of the car, but he looked sharply at the human, body tense, ready for combat. He relaxed when he saw who exactly it was.

"Alright, get them out," Dean ordered. Castiel shook his head once, adamant in his denial. "Listen," Dean began, "it's early. No one has to know but us, hell, no one can see us here. You're miserable and it's the least I can do, Cas."

"It's not that bad," Castiel tried, but Dean snorted.

"You've got your shoulders up to your ears, dude. Tell me that's normal."

"I'll live," came the retort.

"Get them out, Cas. Please."

Castiel looked away, but finally complied. He didn't know whether it was the itching, the pleading tone or the fact that Castiel felt utterly sick of preening for the next fifty years, but he manifested his wings. They were in even worse disarray than before, with the new orange-red feathers pointing every way but the right one.

"Good, so, you just align the feathers?" Dean asked, gently running his hands through the serrated feathers.

"Yes. They need to be layered from top to bottom."

"No problem," Dean replied, and got to work.

It was a strange sensation for Castiel to have someone else preen his wings. Occasionally he had to give instructions or show the hunter how to do it, but Dean was a quick student and pretty soon all Castiel had to do was sit there and sip coffee. It felt nice to be part of a team, even if one of the team was Lucifer's vessel and the other one a stubborn human.

He wondered how Dean would react if Castiel told him what preening another one's wings actually meant. Maybe he should just enjoy the attention while he could, because he doubted that Dean would offer again.

The itching subsided and Castiel could focus once more. And he noticed something which had escaped his attention before. With his feathers realigned and his mind free from the stress of itching and discomfort, he knew he'd gotten stronger somehow. It was definitely the extra wings lending him extra mojo. And not just a bit stronger – Castiel felt like he could take on a battalion of angels and come out victorious.

The fingers through his feathers came across one of the last knots. The chill in the air had slowly disappeared and inside the house Castiel could hear either Sam or Bobby stumble around, making breakfast.

Dean appeared at his side and Castiel felt sad that the human was done.

"Thank you," Castiel said sincerely.

"You're welcome. And now we shall never speak of this again," Dean said with a warning tone. Why he said it like that, Castiel didn't understand, but he was thankful nonetheless, even if he had had reservations at first. He tapped Dean's shoulder and transported them inside the house.

It turned out to be Sam was the one making breakfast. At the fluttering sound he looked up and offered some bacon to Dean.

"Found anything?" Sam asked, looking at Castiel.

"No," Castiel replied. "But I'll keep looking."

The next second he was halfway across the world, browsing through yet another library. Wherever he went, a lot of libraries used the same system. Very convenient for him, because now he could find books about the occult in no time. Even this library in Germany used the worldwide system. And as he speed-read through the book, he finally found a lead, hidden in a footnote. Too bad the Winchesters didn't speak German.

* * *

Within seconds (and with far less fluttering now that his wings were finally smooth again) Castiel was back at the diner where all this had begun. This early there was nobody around, which suited him just fine. In his haste he ripped the diner apart. His fresh strength was disconcerting and he cracked solid wood in half without even trying. Even when he gently opened the door the hinges came off and he had to prop it against the wall. Maybe the new wings had made him even stronger than before. But he didn't have the luxury of time to linger on that now. Humans were infinitely curious and sooner or later somebody would show up to investigate the noises Castiel made while looking for the item.

Finally he encountered what he had been looking for. It looked innocent enough, just a tiny leather bag with a scrap of paper and some stones, herbs and for some reason a piece of an article about the dangers of baseball for players without appropriate shoes inside. On the scrap of paper something was written in dried-up lemon ink. To human eyes the text would be invisible, but Castiel could make out the letters. His frown lessened when he read whatever was written on that scrap. In fact, some might call it a smile which appeared on his face, if you looked at it from afar while squinting against the sunlight.

Castiel left the mess behind as he flew back to the Winchesters, though he made a pit stop at a store on the way and purchased something which he usually didn't, if only for the fact that there was a giant red devil plastered on the front. But Castiel felt sure that God would forgive him for this small sin. It wasn't like this cartoonish quality even captured the depth of evil Satan could be. In fact, if Lucifer ever saw this film, Castiel knew he'd just be disturbed. So it was perfect for the angel's purpose.

* * *

By the time Castiel returned from his trip overseas Sam, Dean and Bobby had eaten breakfast, cleaned it up and were now busy fighting about who got to do what today. Dean wanted to look at more crazy hoodoo sites, but Sam refused to give up his comfy laptop spot, claiming that Dean would just use the device to look at naked women and fake news sites. Bobby just wanted to get some peace and quiet so he could focus on some paperwork for his business, but this new angel research (not to mention the Apocalypse) kept him busy. Two bickering brothers in his house didn't help one bit. So he kept shushing the boys, but within minutes they were sniping back and forth across the room again at the same volume they started at.

In this pandemonium Castiel arrived with the barest of feathery whispers. Even if his landing was as soft as ever, he immediately had their attention.

"Find anything?" Bobby asked, peering at the angel from beneath his cap.

"Yes," Castiel said. He handed the hex bag to Sam, who immediately opened it and scattered the contents over the desk. Several stones rolled towards freedom but were halted by Sam's hand. The skull of a tiny mouse followed, along with the picture of a smiling young brunette. Crushed herbs covered the picture and stones, making the room smell like yesterday's salad dressing.

"I found this in the diner where the new wings manifested for the first time," Castiel elaborated. Dean picked up the skull and turned it around in his hands.

"Any idea what the witch was trying to do?" Dean asked. Sam went for the picture and squinted at it.

"Hey, isn't that..." He trailed off and rubbed his thumb across the picture. "It's that actress, what's her name. From that movie-"

"With the 'rah' and that huge crocodile that goes 'bleh' and the black guy doesn't die first?"

"That's the one," Sam confirmed. Which was a good thing, because although whatever Dean had said was a complete and grammatically correct sentence, it still made no sense to Castiel. He blamed it on human culture and moved on.

"I think this witch tried to get this actress to come to that town," Castiel informed them. "And perhaps give special attention to the witch."

"Yeah, or fall in love or something. This doesn't look like the hex bag was meant to harm or kill this woman," Sam said, sifting through the stones. "That usually requires other ingredients."

"But this still doesn't explain your wings, Cas," Dean said, turning towards the angel.

"This was the only hex bag I could find, but maybe somebody had one on them that day and the effects last longer," Castiel reasoned.

Sam looked at the ceiling as he thought about that. "Could be. So let's just hope that the effects wear off soon, right?"

Castiel nodded slowly, not sure if that was an appropriate response. The lack of strange looks from the Winchesters or Bobby was confirmation.

"But I still say we keep on looking," Dean said. All males made affirmative throat noises and the old argument about who got to be on the laptop resumed.

* * *

"Dean, I want to apologize for the inconvenience," Castiel said in the late afternoon. He had only grown one set of wings today, which the brothers took as a good sign.

"Nah, don't worry about it Cas," Dean said. He stretched once and sank back in the couch. Somehow the laptop had overheated and Sam was busy trying to fix it. Bobby had disappeared inside his office to keep his business afloat and Dean had claimed the couch. They were out of books to read about angels, wings or any remotely related subject to wings or angels, so the older brother took to watching some TV.

"I want to give you something," Castiel continued as if Dean hadn't waved the apology off. Castiel reached inside the pocket of his trench coat and got a DVD out, holding it out for Dean.

"Is that... Cas, why... Y'know what, I don't even want to know. Thanks, dude."

Dean smiled as he took the DVD from Castiel. Which was a good thing, because a second later the angel wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. Dean looked around, but Castiel was gone. He shrugged and popped the DVD inside. At least now he had something worthwhile to watch, even if the movie was a bit old. The jokes were still good, crude and just what he needed right now.

Even if the Devil was portrayed here in a gay relationship with Saddam Hussein. That fact just made him laugh harder.

Meanwhile, Castiel sat on the roof of the building and heard the first amused snort bubble up inside Dean's throat. It was going to be a good 81 minutes, Castiel could already tell. Even if he had to preen like never before after the movie was done. It felt good to be powerful.

* * *

The atmosphere on the hay field was as tense as a mute guy at a spelling bee. Lucifer stood on one side of the field, the Winchesters, Bobby and Castiel on the other.

Even from this distance they could all see that Nick wasn't the proper vessel for Lucifer. Unnatural things poked out underneath the surface and he looked like he should visit a burn ward first before getting on with the Apocalypse. The Colt burnt in Deans hands and Dean had every intention to use it, before Sam could say yes. Not that his little brother ever would, of course, but still...

"Hello," Lucifer simply said, throwing a half-smile at the gang of ragtag survivors. From their position they could see that Lucifer had been busy digging something up. Streaks of mud covered his clothes and he had that sweaty look over him. Or maybe that was just how Nick looked when possessed by the most evil thing God could come up with.

"Are you here to kill me?" Lucifer asked in a neutral tone.

"Yes," Dean answered. Without warning he and Sam split up, running towards Lucifer. It was a suicidal plan, but it was the best they could come up with in such short notice. Castiel knew that Lucifer was close, and for them it was now or never to shoot Lucifer with the Colt. Before he could hurt again, before any more Horsemen arrived, before the whole world went down the crapper. Not that it already hadn't, but semantics were not a favorite pastime for Winchesters and entourage.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, maybe to distract Lucifer, maybe because they were so used to yelling each other's names.

"Dean!" Sam yelled back, doing something complicated with his gun. Which also looked a lot like the Colt. The plan was to confuse Lucifer, make him think that the other had the real Colt and then pop one between his eyes.

It actually turned out to be a good plan. The Lucifer bemusedly let the Winchesters come closer, and then amusedly grinned at them as they did a weird dance of 'I don't have the Colt, the other guy does'. In the end it was Dean who loosed the shot and hit Lucifer in the temple.

Lucifer crumpled to the ground and Castiel didn't believe that act for one second. Neither did Bobby, who took some more potshots at the Lucifer while he could. Every round was loaded with holy water, salt, anything that could hurt and repel a demon. But this was the father and mother of all demons. Which just sounded wrong, so Castiel shifted his mind to the situation at hand.

"Is he-" Sam began, but his words got cut short when Lucifer sent him and Dean flying. Lucifer popped up like a jack-in-a-box and grinned at Castiel.

"Hey, look, a whitey choir boy. Bye."

Without warning he snapped his fingers. Castiel felt a pressure all around him, but he utilized his newfound power and quickly it dissipated. Castiel returned the baffled look on Lucifer's face with a small grin.

"Oh, I'm no longer just an angel, _dude_ ," he said. He flared his wings as wide as they could go.

And it was a grand sight. The wings were _ginormous_ , spanning from horizon to horizon. These were Castiel's real wings. No longer the tangled up knotty mess they had been before, they were now glorious, fading from black to purple tp all the colors of the rainbow until the entire bottom was a fiery red. Dean felt his eyes begin to water as they burnt, but it was alright, he could stomach the slight sting to keep on gazing at this magnificence. The wings sparkled as if they had been bathed in dewdrops and the vividness of the colors... even the best painters in the world wouldn't be able to recreate this scene, this brightness.

When the pain in his eyes became unbearable Castiel seemed to notice, because the enormous wings shrank to the size of giant wings. No longer spanning from horizon to horizon, these wings were more like the manifested wings. They looked real, but still carried that same unreal, dewdroppy vividness on them.

"Impossible," Lucifer said. Castiel raised his wings up high and the dangerous serrated edges became visible.

"No, just improbable," Castiel retorted. "And now," he said, and snapped his fingers.

Lucifer exploded in a gory imitation of the movie _Hackers_. That is, he exploded with blood and guts and soul spraying everywhere, coating the hayfield in a lovely display of evil red.

It was silent for a full minute as the ragtag band realized what this meant for their future. Finally Bobby broke the silence.

"Shower first, then answers," he announced. He hadn't even been close to Lucifer, but still a spray of red had managed to make its way to his face.

"Agreed," Dean and Sam said at the same time, giving Castiel a weird look. How and when exactly had the angel become _that_ powerful?

* * *

"This is the real hex bag I found at the diner," Castiel announced once they were all seated around Bobby's kitchen table. He upended the bag on the table. The stones, herbs, scrap of paper and newspaper clipping all rolled out and were immediately seized by various hands.

"There's nothing on this paper," Dean announced. Sam frowned at the article about the dangers of baseball and Bobby examined the stones.

"Yes, there is," Castiel said. "But in short, this hex bag was made to raise the amount of shoe sales of the local sports shop."

"But as a side-effect, you grew wings," Dean semi-asked. His tone didn't go up at the end of that statement/question, but still Castiel understood he needed to explain things a bit more.

"Yes, and with those wings came more Grace. When I found this hex bag and understood its potential, I used everything in my power to ensure I grew even more wings. So I became more powerful than Lucifer in the end."

"So, basically, you're an arch angel now," Sam summed up. Castiel shook his head.

"For now, yes. But in two days I'll lose the extra wings and become a regular angel."

"As if there's anything regular about that," Bobby interjected, but made a motion for Castiel to continue.

"On that piece of paper the witch has written 'whatever's in this bag shall come to pass', although in Celtic Runes. I think she meant that about the baseball shoes, but she forgot something."

It was as if the angel had grown a knack for storytelling. Sam, Dean and Bobby hung on to his every word, the hex bag items still clutched in their hands. It had been a strange few days and now, finally, everything was going to be resolved. The Apocalypse had been averted, Castiel was all-powerful and somehow that all had to do with a tiny hex bag inside a non-descript diner. Why the witch had put it in a diner they'd never find out. Maybe she'd forgotten it, they reasoned later, or maybe the spell only worked if it was placed inside a diner, for some reason. Maybe it needed the auras of several people to stay in effect, or maybe the witch had snapped and just spread all of her hex bags around.

Whatever the reason, it was all over.

"Turn that article over," Castiel said. Dean did so and read the other side out loud. He started mid-sentence, since the original article appeared to be torn out, with pieces and edges missing.

"...isn't he just handsome? He's been married for... piece is missing, yadda yadda, but he's the cutest man of all. They say that when he smiles," Dean to cut himself off as he began to laugh, having read the last bit already. "You sly dog! _That's_ why you gave me that movie! _Whatever's in this bag shall come to pass_ , genius!"

"Come on, Dean, what's the end of that sentence?" Sam asked, nay, whined. Dean read it again, this time with a huge grin on his face.

"They say that when he smiles, an angel gets its wings."

And promptly Castiel grew a new pair.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I have no idea where that came from either, nor that I'd manage to write 13.000 words on one crack fic. At any rate, please let me know if you come across any weird words or grammar, I'm ESL and sometimes things slip by my notice.


End file.
